


Small Comforts

by theworstlumberjack



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworstlumberjack/pseuds/theworstlumberjack
Summary: Takes place towards the end of the Miserable Mill when Lemony is shown in a wintery log cabin. He has company, in the form of Ramona, the Duchess of Winnipeg. #TeamGetLemonyLaid





	Small Comforts

Hidden within the Mortmain mountain range is a large and cozy log cabin, able to accommodate 6-7 people, if said people are able and hardy mountaineers, and if one of those people doesn’t mind sleeping on a reasonably comfortable couch.

To get there, one needs to decipher a series of clues, sent via carrier crow over several weeks and assembled over time. With the difficulties inherent in the journey, the fallibility of crow-delivered mail, and the puzzling nature of the clues, few make the trip there successfully.

And here in this cabin I wait, anxiously pacing the wooden floors for some news about what has befallen my volunteer comrades. The only news I’ve received as of late has been bleak and calamitous. 

Ike. Bertrand. Beatrice. Gustav. Montgomery. Josephine. Good friends, no more.

I finish reading chapter 9 of my book and prepare to dampen the fire and retreat to bed, when I hear a knock at the door. I hope beyond hope that this is to be a pleasant visit, but the way the fates have been working as of late lead me to grab my favorite axe from beside the doorframe and raise it cautiously as I open the door. The man that stands before me is bundled from head to toe, but the sad grey eyes are unmistakable. I lower my axe and smile.

“I didn’t realize it was a sad occasion,” I say.

Instead of delivering the expected reply, the man flumps face forward, having lost consciousness.

“Lemony!” I cry, and pull him into the cabin, kicking the door closed and blocking out the howling snow storm raging outside. I drag him towards the fire, no small feat given his generally large size, and start removing the frosted outer layers that stand between him and the source of heat. His eyes flutter slightly open.

“The world is quiet here,” he mumbles as he regains consciousness. He attempts to sit up. “You really shouldn’t have brought me in, Ramona, it could have been a trick.”

I laugh. “I wasn’t about to let anyone die of exposure, let alone one of my oldest friends. Also, I’m very confident in my ability with a fire axe,” I reply. “Stay here and get warm, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

When I return with the tea tray, Lemony looks much better. His eyebrows are no longer frozen and his cheeks are rosy once more. He looks contemplative as he sits by the fire. He usually looks contemplative.

“So, is it a sad occasion?” I ask as I hand him his teacup. He frowns.

“A mixed bag,” he replies before taking a sip. “Georgina Orwell is the latest in the long line of treacherous deaths. Not a loss to us, since she crossed the line of the schism some time ago, but…a loss, nonetheless,” he finished.

“And the children?” I ask, dreading the reply.

“My sources say they are on their way to Prufrock Prep,” says Lemony. “Another mixed bag, I suppose. Olaf can’t be far behind. I will head there myself as soon as I can.” He sighs into his tea. “I always seem to be several steps behind. Too far behind to be of any help. But hopefully my exhausting collection of notes will prove valuable.”

 

“Those poor souls,” I say, and sit down on the floor next to Lemony. Even sitting, he towers over me. “They’re so young.”

“We were younger when we were recruited,” he observes.

“We were prepared,” I answer flatly. “But it sounds like the Baudelaires are very much their parent’s issue. So brave.” I say, staring into my unsweetened tea. When I look over at Lemony, his eyes are welling up with tears.

“I’m so sorry about Beatrice, Lemony,” I say softly, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I forget that I haven’t seen you since…” I trail off.

Lemony dabs his eyes with a handkerchief, coughs and composes himself. “Help is on the way. K is at the carnival, collecting much needed information, and she’s preparing to intervene. Olaf will meet his match once my sister throws her hat into this ring,” he says. “As soon as this storm ends, I will go to headquarters to retrieve the sugar bowl, and then I’ll join her.”

“The sugar bowl is at headquarters?” I ask, aghast. “Why did no one tell me? Headquarters is only a half-day climb from here!”

“The information was too sensitive,” says Lemony, shaking his head.

“I’ll retrieve it. I’m a better mountain climber. You go meet your sister,” I say, and rise to go to the window. I lift the edge of the curtain to see nothing but a wall of swirling snow. I sigh. The storm had somehow gotten even worse. “But it looks like no one is leaving this cabin for some time.”

Lemony rises to his feet, looking a little comical in his long underwear. “Best to get some rest while we can, then,” he says, rubbing his still-pale hands together.

“I’ll get you some flannel pajamas,” I say with a smile. “Let me check you for frostbite first,” I say, and I walk over to him and take his hands in mine. I turn them over and then peek at his feet. “You’ll survive,” I announce and gaze up at those mournful eyes. I’m not sure what possesses me, but I lean forward and gently press my lips to his. The kiss lingers for a moment before he pulls away slightly.

“Ramona…” he says softly. I can feel the blush rush to my cheeks.

“I’m sorry," I stammer. "You’re still grieving. I’m grieving. I’m not sure what I was thinking just now,” I say, and shake my head. He lifts my chin to look at him.

“I’m thinking that the world is a cold and often cruel place, and that if a person finds a place that is warm and welcoming, then one should take what comfort that they can,” he says with a small, sad smile, and closes the distance between us once more. 

Now, there was a time when I had dalliances with many of the most handsome men in VFD. And some particularly handsome women. But Lemony was always such a sensitive man, and smitten only with my dearest friend Beatrice. All of that to say, I am taken a little aback when he pulls me back to him, kissing me softly. I can't help but compare him to his siblings. Jacques, oh, he knew what he was doing. And Kit did what she pleased. Lemony is by far the gentlest of the three, sweet and giving. I break the kiss and look up at him and smile slyly. I unbutton the topmost buttons of his long johns, exploding his handsomely hairy chest, and look for his reaction. When he gives me no sign of wanting to discontinue, I pull the shirt down to his waist and trace my fingers lightly across his chest. I observe his face as I continue removing his single article of clothing, until the garment is at his ankles and he is my mouth. I feel his hands grasp my hair softly, and he groans appreciatively. 

"Ramona..." I hear, and look up. He pulls me back to my feet and into a kiss, and I shake off my robe behind me. He kisses my neck and slides the strap of my nightdress down, and follows it with his mouth, kissing my collarbone, my shoulder. The nightdress joins the long johns on the floor, and I find myself straddling the tall man on the reasonably comfortable couch, our foreheads pressed together, the storm outside all but forgotten. I ride him until we're both spent and panting, and I collapse into his arms.

"The fire is almost out," he observes, looking past me to the fireplace.

"I'll light another in the bedroom," I say. "And we'll snuggle to keep warm."

Somehow, despite the man having almost a foot of height on me, I am the big spoon that night.


End file.
